As quietly as he could manage, Harry skulked along the wall of the long corridor. Hiding behind statues, he waited until the ruffles of black robes vanished around the corners. For one trembling second, he hesitated; caution murmured. But some kind of urge, overwhelming urge to get at least some scrape of information, told him to move along. He set off in pursuit.

He crossed the corner just in time to witness Voldemort shoving Kreacher inside the Potion's classroom. Harry halted at once and retreated behind the wall, so that Voldemort couldn't see him. After a few seconds, Harry dared to look. He glimpsed the tail of Voldemort's cloak disappearing around the door.

Slowly, Harry stepped away from his hiding place. Without making a sound, he advanced the closed door. His scar was burning merciless now, reaching a peak. He stuffed his fist in his mouth to keep him from screaming and closed his eyes. He could not fight the pain much longer: He had to succumb. With his other hand, he grasped his pounding head and collided with the wall. Then in an explosion of agony, he felt the rage that did not belong to him possess his soul, saw the insides of the dungeons lit only by firelight. Kreacher lay before him on the ground.

"You are supposed to be dead, aren't you?" Harry said, in a cold high-pitched voice. "And yet, here you lay before me. And Lord Voldemort is wondering – oh yes, wondering indeed – how this is possible…"

Kreacher blew green mucus from his snoutlike nose, and turned bloodshot, watery eyes upon Harry while pushing himself in a sitting position.

"I left you in the cavern, I left you to die," Harry went on, pacing a few steps back and forth. "Tell me what happened after I left."

"Kreacher needed water," began the elf slowly, and curled into a ball, placed his wet face between his knees, and began to rock backward and forward. His voice was muffled but quite distinct in the silent, echoing dungeon. "He crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake… and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface…"

"How did you get away?" Harry asked in a soft, high whisper.

Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked at Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he said.

"How did you escape the Inferi?" Harry inquired. Kreacher did not seem to understand.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he repeated. "The house-elf's highest law is his Master's bidding… Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home…"

Harry felt Voldemort consider Kreacher's words. How could he have been so foolish to overlook this? It had never occurred to him that house-elfs, creatures far beneath wizards, possess magic to outface his highest defenses.

"And what happened next?"

"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried," croaked Kreacher. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then… it was a little while later… Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell… and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave…"

"You brought him back to the cavern?" Harry hissed angrily. As he spoke, he saw flashes of Kreacher's memories flooding through his mind. House-elfs could be subjected to Legilimency, then… Harry saw the dark outlines of the brick walls of the cavern, Kreacher explaining that the blood offer was to be made. He witnessed them sailing over the dark, black water.

"Yes," Kreacher replied. "M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had."

Tears were pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. "And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets… And he ordered — Kreacher to leave — without him. And he told Kreacher — to go home — and never to tell my Mistress — what he had done — but to destroy — the first locket. And he drank — all the potion — and Kreacher swapped the lockets — and watched… as Master Regulus… was dragged beneath the water… and..."

But Kreacher didn't need to explain what had happened on the island anymore, Harry followed his story within Kreacher's mind. Still enraged, he looked down on the sniveling house-elf.

"You took the locket – my locket – to your old master's house," said Harry. "Where is it now? Is it still there?"

He doubted that this creature was able to succeed into destroying it. The thought was laughable, absurd. Kreacher was whimpering while still rocking himself back- and forwards. Images of Kreacher's futile attempts to destroy the locket filled Harry's head.

"The Mudbloods and the blood-traitors tried to dispose of it. B-but Kreacher stole the locket back… He kept it safe."

"Bring me to the locket," Harry demanded.

"K-kreacher can't!" screeched the elf, shivering from head to toe. "Kreacher can't bring in outsiders!"

These words seemed to make Voldemort even more livid. With a sense of emerging from deep water, Harry drew heaving breaths and opened his eyes. He wasn't Voldemort anymore. He was standing outside of the dungeon, and heard Kreacher's rasp howls through the wall now… But before he could feel sorry for Kreacher, a sound like the crack of a whip, echoed through the air.

"POTTER!"

Harry startled. To his horror, a hooded man appeared from around the corner, stalking his way over to him. He didn't need to think for another second; avoiding the jinx the Death Eater had casted, Harry ran.

He raced towards the end of the hall and flung himself aside when another curse hit the wall right above his head. He sprang to his feet and darted towards the stairs. Jumping three steps at the time, Harry sprinted from floor to floor. All the while, his scar was still burning savagely. It look all the effort he could muster to block Voldemort's mind out of his own. He needed to concentrate on his own destressing situation now. Panting and gasping, he reached seventh floor, and slowed down next to the wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. He bent double, clutching his side. He heard the sound of echoing footsteps behind him.

Frantically, Harry paced back and forth in the hall. I need a place to hide – quickly. I need a place to hide. I need a place to hide, please-

Immense relieve washed over Harry when the door appeared. Quickly, he grabbed the doorknob, pulled the door open, and ran inside. The door slammed shut behind him.

The room had turned in some kind of maze. A messy kind of maze at that: cabinets, stools, trunks and piles of sacks, books and broken items formed the walls. Harry squeezed himself between two closets and fell into the jumble of broken furniture. He dug his way out of the mess and started to run again, deeper and deeper in the maze of piled junk. Pain cleaved Harry's head like a sword stroke. The room and the junk dissolved in front of him.

"What did you say to me?" His voice was high and cold, but fury burned inside him.

"Kreacher is not allowed!" cried the house-elf. "Kreacher is bound to the rules of the secrecy. He can't show you where it is!"

"But surely you're able to fetch it for me, are you not?"

With flapping ears, Kreacher nodded.

"Then go!" Voldemort continued. "Go and bring me my locket!"

As he watched Kreacher vanish into thin air, he let his feelings overcome him. The one thing he had dreaded — but it could not be true, he could not see how… An house-elf and a eighteen year old boy, able to penetrate his defenses, to steal his most valuable possession.

The scream of rage, of denial left him as if it were a stranger's: He was crazed, frenzied, it could not be true, it was impossible… How was it possible that this Black boy could have discovered his secret, even when his house-elf had returned to him?

Dumbledore had found out, yes. He had been foolish enough to hint that back at the Ministry. Dumbledore had known… But he had been a powerful wizard. And he'd probably found out because of the boy, because of the boy's scar. He and the boy shared this connection, due to the night he accidentally left a piece of his soul, which had attached itself to Harry…

But how was this Regulus Black able to find out? Nobody else had ever known… Apart from his old teacher, and Dumbledore, nobody was able to understand this dark power. He himself didn't even know how to transfer a piece of his soul into another object. If he'd known, then the boy would be dead already…

The boy… Did he know now too? He had been standing behind the doorway, eavesdropping his interrogation of Kreacher. His faithful death eaters were searching him now…

You will pay for this, Harry, he thought. And pay most severely. Oh yes, he would pay indeed. Not only did he feel demented enough to torture the boy beyond insanity, for his darkest secret had been discovered, for the rage he felt because of it, but the boy was still bold enough to follow him, even when the risk had been dire…

With a gasp, Harry pulled back and opened his eyes. He lay face down on the floor, trembling uncontrollably. The pain in his scar sickened him. He'd just made another trip into Voldemort's mind.

Unable to get up, Harry continued to lie on the ground. Voldemort was angry; deranged with fury. His big secret had been discovered… And he, Harry, would pay for it… He must stay here, hidden, and work out a plan to escape. He already had felt enough of what damage Voldemort's rage could do… If only he still had his Invisibility Cloak… He didn't even know were his stuff was; his books, his trunk, the Marauder's map, Hedwig… Would they still be here at Hogwarts? He could retrieve his Cloak… Then he could creep away safely, he could go to Hermoine and Ron, and then sneak away together… If only he were able to Apparate himself… like Kreacher could…

Harry sat upright instantly. Kreacher! Kreacher had to fetch this locket for Voldemort. And then return to his mercy… He didn't know why, but felt it was important that Voldemort would not be able to get ahold of that locket. But would it work…?

"Kreacher," whispered Harry. His voice was barely audible; he felt too weak to speak. With a loud bang, Kreacher appeared, still looking like he could collapse any minute.

"Master called for Kreacher?" he said, and paid Harry a stiff bow.

"Kreacher," Harry whispered again, looking at the frail creature in front of him. "Are you- are you alright?"

He never had much feelings for Kreacher, but seeing him standing so miserably, made Harry's precious anger towards him drop marginally. Kreacher stared at him, and then suddenly, without warning, he launched himself to the ground and began to sob uncontrollably.

"Kreacher!" Harry screamed, and kneeled beside the elf. "Kreacher, are you- what is the ma-?"

"Kreacher saw him!" gasped the elf as tears poured over his snout and into his mouth full of graying teeth.

"Saw him? Saw who?" Harry asked shakenly, thinking about Voldemort.

Kreacher was gulping for air: His hollow chest was rising and falling rapidly, then his eyes flew open and he uttered a bloodcurdling scream.

"Kreacher saw him coming out of Kreacher's cupboard with his hands full of Kreacher's treasures. Kreacher told the sneak thief to stop, but Mundungus Fletcher laughed and r-ran..."

"What? Mundungus Fletcher? What do you mean-?"

"The Dark Lord ordered Kreacher to bring him the locket, master Regulus' locket! But Mundungus Fletcher had it, and then ran, and the Kreacher had to come here!" he sobbed, sniffing his snout in the rag he wore. Harry looked at him, thinking fast.

"Kreacher, do you know why Voldemort wants it so badly?"

"Kreacher doesn't know. He has never told Kreacher," answered Kreacher, whose sobbing has subsided a little.

"Okay, Kreacher, well – Aah!"

Harry clutched his head and collapsed on the ground. For the third time this night, Voldemort's mind penetrated his; Kreacher and the room were gone; he was now looking down on a hooded man, kneeling in front of him.

"M-my lord," stammered the hooded man, his eyes wide with terror, "m-my lord… he's g-gone, we can't find him… we chased him through the castle… h-he disappeared…"

"Where?" murmured Voldemort. "Where did he disappear?"

"On the s-seventh floor, m-my lord. There's no sign of him…" The man was trembling, unable to meet the red eyes high above his.

"The seventh floor?" Voldemort whispered softly, stepping away from the kneeling man.

"W-we heard him t-there last…" the man continued. "We heard s-stumbling, and then, the hallway w-was clear… W-we think-"

But Voldemort has raised his hand to silence the man. He turned to a group of death eaters who were standing apprehensively along the wall in the Potion's classroom.

"I shall look for the boy myself. He will not be able to hide from me. The rest of you are to return to the Great Hall. And you-" Voldemort's eyes flickered back at the kneeling man. "Alert Snape. Tell him to wait for me."

Harry's eyes shot open. He was back in the Room of Requirement, back with Kreacher, who backing away slowly and clearly showed that he thought Harry's was out of his mind.

"Kreacher," Harry croaked, and sat upright again. The pain in his scar made it difficult for him to concentrate. "Kreacher, listen to me. Go and find Mundungus Fletcher, please. Try to steal back the locket, but don't give it to Voldemort! Keep it safe, keep it well-hidden this time. And then hide yourself, okay? Make sure Voldemort or the death eaters are not able to find you."

"Kreacher will take back the locket, master, and then Kreacher will hide himself and the locket," said Kreacher, and gave a small bow.

"Yes, good. Now go. Voldemort is coming."

Kreacher gave another small bow and vanished with the same, loud crack. Harry got to his feet and looked around. Voldemort would come to the seventh floor… alone. Why? Why not send his followers or bring some of them along? Did he know about the Room of Requirement? Was he already set to find Harry here?

From behind the piles of mess, Harry heard a door open. He scolded himself inwardly. He should have asked the room to enable anyone else for entering, to make it accessible only for him. He crouched down and hid himself behind a pile of broomsticks and broken, empty frames.

How did Voldemort know how to enter anyway? Was the door still visible? Had he asked for Harry's hiding place? The sound of a closing door echoed through the room. Harry froze, trying to stop himself from making another sound.

"I know you are here, Harry," whispered Voldemort dangerously. His voice was carried through the whole of the room. "And there will be no escape for you now."

Harry heard the soft sound of footsteps. He placed his hand over his mouth, so that his heavy breathing wouldn't give him away.

"I give you five seconds to come to me, to give yourself up." His voice was higher now, colder. Harry closed his eyes. His scar was reaching a peak. Seconds passed by, and Harry stayed where he was. He tried in vain not to listen to the footsteps nearing still.

Something bright, something scarlet burned through his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes just in time to spot a flying cabinet, heading his way. And then the world resolved itself into pain and semidarkness: He was half buried in the wreckage of a room that had been subjected to a terrible attack. Hot stickiness on his cheek told him that he was bleeding copiously.

Slowly, he pushed shatters of wood off of him and rolled over the pieces of rumble. He stood, swaying, more frightened than he had been that these past minutes. He coughed blood out of his mouth and tried to walk a few paces. Something soft made him lose grip; his back and head collided with the wall and he sank through his knees. His arms lay limply on the ground; his vision was blurred. Harry saw the vague contours of a dark figure, emerging from the hazy mist in front of him.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find you, Harry?" said the dark figure, with a cold high voice. He became close to passing out…

"Rennervate," whispered the voice and the room became much clearer. The damage the blast had down was now visible. The sickening pain which had tried to take Harry, subsided lightly. Harry saw Voldemort standing before him, looking more enraged than Harry had ever seen him, while also possessing an hint of amusement in his eyes.

"I want you to experience this in full measure, Harry," whispered Voldemort ominously. "Crucio!"

Note:

As you might have noticed, I used actual parts of the book (Kreacher's Tale). This way, this fan fic will resemble the actual story more.